Page 41 of The Endless One

He turned and leaned against the railing. Soon enough, they marched into view, a wall of women with determined expressions on their faces and intent in every stride.

“What do you want?” he asked before they even reached his side.

“We have an idea,” Jessamine announced, as though that wasn’t clear by the way they had all stalked up to him.

“Yes,” he murmured. “Obviously, nightmare. Out with it.”

“We all had the thought that the gods have been killed before. Which means they can be killed. If we can figure out the original spell those witches used, then we can do it again.”

No, this was stupid. She should have remembered why it was stupid. While she was still talking, he looked behind her to try to find Sybil in the crowd. That kitchen witch also should have remembered there was a good reason why he wouldn’t agree to this plan. But she wasn’t among the group, which meant she had to not have been involved in this stupidity.

“Elric, are you listening to me? The gods have been beaten before, and there’s no reason to rewrite the past. We can use what they already figured out.”

“I’m not having this conversation with the entire coven. I will have this conversation with my gravesinger and no one else.”

A redhead in the back made a disgruntled sound. “Isn’t that always how it is? You have a coven, not just the princess.”

He had been waiting for a reason to snap, and this was the perfect reason. These witches thought him too weak right now. They didn’t give him the respect that he was due as their god.

Lunging forward, he reached for the one who had spoken. But he didn’t grab her by the arms or the shoulders as she clearly expected. He plunged his fist into the fissure of her chest and ripped out the remaining magic that was there. It was more than he expected. The heart-sized darkness he held in his fist wrapped tendrils around his wrist, leaking onto the ground in wet plops as the redheaded witch let out a wretched sound.

“Listen to me, witch. You are only strong because I made you so. You are only here because I allow you to live. You may be thinking back to the old days, and that you once sacrificed me, but you have forgotten that your people only did so because I allowed it.”

He knew he must look rabid. His hair had fallen in front of his face, and the snarl that twisted his features wasn’t an expression he usually wore. But these witches needed to recall that he was not some toy for them to play with. He was dangerous. Beyond what they could conjure up in their dreams. In the middle of the night, they should fear that he was lurking in the shadows, as all the people in this kingdom used to fear.

The redhead trembled before him. Her face had gone white as snow, and the ragged wound in her chest started to bleed.

“What is happening to her?” the blonde beside her asked, reaching to help her stand.

“Without magic, a witch returns to what she was before. If I remember correctly, you joined this coven because you were very, very sick. I saved your life by giving you magic. You would do well to remember that.” He lifted the dripping mass in his hand, staring at it before he looked back at the redhead. “Do you want this back?”

She nodded violently.

“Do you think you’ve earned getting it back?” Some part of him wanted her on her knees before him. He wanted her to beg. He wanted to see some modicum of respect before he returned it to her.

But then a small hand touched his hip, and he was reminded that this was who he used to be, not who he was now. Jessamine reached up his arm and gently took hold of the mass with him. Together, she drew their hands into the cavity of the redhead’s chest and forced him to release the blackened energy he had ripped from her.

“Go,” Jessamine said to the coven. “I will converse with the Deathless One and return to you with his decision.”

They all ran from him as though hounds bit at their heels. Perhaps the hounds were him, because he wanted to tear at them with his teeth, just to see their blood decorating the floor.

“What was that about?” Jessamine asked him once they were alone.

“What do you mean?”

“You aren’t usually so…” She hesitated, likely seeing the expression on his face that warned her he wasn’t interested in what she was about to say next. “I just worry about you, that’s all.”

She was worried. Of course she was worried. He had reacted like that out of the blue, and she didn’t know that he’d been struggling for a while now.

Elric shook his head. “They wish to sacrifice me. I find myself angry at the suggestion.”

“I will not let them sacrifice you. They speak from a place of fear, which is why I thought their plan was a good idea. The other witches killed the gods. Surely we can do the same?”

He hated that she looked at him with so much hope. She didn’t remember what it was like in his realm, or why the gravesingers were trapped there.

Stepping into her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her against his chest. He leaned against the railing, allowing her to rest on him as he dashed all her hopes. “Jessamine, the gravesingers were the ones to kill the gods.”

“No, the gravesingers killed you. They gave their lives so that the plague wouldn’t be as bad.” She frowned up at him. “Is that not the entire story?”